


hold me in your arms (i'm just a boy like you)

by wesawbears



Series: Care and Keeping of Geralt [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Consent, M/M, Miscommunication, anti witcher prejudice, but it's all miscommunication and all activities are discussed before things really start, in the beginning geralt expects jaskier to be rough, liberal use of the em dash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:06:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24171025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesawbears/pseuds/wesawbears
Summary: For a prompt asking for Geralt who is used to being treated roughly in bed, and expects Jaskier to be the same. Jaskier proves him wrong.--In other words, Geralt gets pampered in bed and learns that he doesn't have to accept people's cruel treatment.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Care and Keeping of Geralt [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1787761
Comments: 59
Kudos: 1103
Collections: Abby's Witcher Collection, Witcher Kink Meme (Dreamwidth)





	hold me in your arms (i'm just a boy like you)

**Author's Note:**

> To clarify on the tags, Geralt expects Jaskier to be rough. Jaskier never intends that and stops to have a discussion as soon as he knows something's wrong. That said, Geralt is in a bit of a rough space in the beginning, in terms of his expectations of what sex is, so proceed with caution if that's something that triggers or upsets you.
> 
> Also Geralt is demisexual, I don't make the rules and this is a very subtle exploration of that if you squint.

It went without saying that Jaskier was the oddest human Geralt had ever met. Normally, they were all the same- cruel at worst, mundane at best. He avoided them when he could, and gave them a wide berth when he couldn’t. 

But Jaskier- he was- he shone so brightly it made Geralt’s eyes hurt, sung and spoke so loudly his ears rang, burned his nose with the strange oils he used. His presence surrounded Geralt in a way that felt violent at first. He had struck back in the only way he knew how, against the jagged feeling of too much that came with being around Jaskier.

The world had always felt like it was too much for Geralt.

The bard stands firm, through punches and barbs, and silences, and eventually Geralt settles a bit. For his part, Jaskier doesn’t dampen himself, not even for Geralt, but does try, in his way, to make things easier. He tones down the oils, knows when to quiet his voice, when to give Geralt space. It’s nice, he thinks, being considered. He doesn’t need it, and certainly doesn’t expect it, but he allows it, if only because Jaskier is determined in his quest to stay by Geralt’s side.

It seems almost inevitable, then that Jaskier would want to try his hand at fucking Geralt eventually. He was adventurous, and young, and wanted all life had to offer. It wasn’t like Geralt was unused to people who wanted to see what it was like to bed a witcher. He’d had his fair share of people for whom a witcher was the most exciting thing they would see in their lives. He indulged their curiosity if he was lonely enough, letting them giggle and explore and not complaining when they held too hard or pulled too rough. There was nothing exciting about a weak witcher, after all. He wouldn’t want to ruin the fantasy.

What was surprising, then, was that Geralt wanted Jaskier just as much. Sex was an itch to scratch, a way of getting someone to touch him every once in a while, in order to satisfy the usually dormant human part of himself that ached for that sort of thing. 

The problem with bedding humans was that most of them either didn’t know the peculiarities of sleeping with a witcher or outright didn’t care. He wasn’t human, he couldn’t feel, so it was only natural to want to test his limits, to pull and pinch at him like he was a toy. He’d learned early on that if he bore it in silence, they would get bored and get on with the part he enjoyed. Besides, there was no reason for him to complain when it was a small price to pay in exchange for them stooping to using him as a bed partner.

Things come to a head when Geralt is counting his coin one night to determine whether he has enough for a whore’s time. He doesn’t, so he sighs and curses.

Jaskier peeks over his shoulder. “Ah, Geralt, I believe you miscounted.”

“I didn’t.”

“My friend, I don’t know what kind of...services you’re asking for-”

“Witchers are already an added service charge.”

He expects that to be that and gathers his coin into his purse, resigning himself to a night of deprivation. It’s fine. He doesn’t need it that badly, not really.

“Geralt?”

“Hmm?” 

He looks up and Jaskier is fidgeting with the hem of his undershirt. “I know it’s not what you usually go for, but...I mean, I’m not exactly unwilling.”

Geralt pauses. This was a bad idea. “I don’t do charity fucks.”

Jaskier barks a laugh. “You could do a lot worse than me. And if you mean to imply that I’d be doing this because I feel sorry for you, you’re wrong. It’s not a hardship, believe me.”

So Jaskier was the type who saw witchers as an exciting notch in his belt. Something squeezed in his heart at the idea of Jaskier thinking of him that way, but he pushes it down. At least Jaskier would be kind about it, and if this was the only way he could have Jaskier, he would take it. 

“Alright.”

“Yes?”

Geralt moves to remove his shirt and is puzzled by the hand that reaches out to stop him. 

“Getting right to it, eh?”

Geralt sighs. “I’m not one of your maidens to deflower. I don’t need...whatever you’re imagining.”

Jaskier tuts a bit. “You have no idea what I’m imagining. And you don’t need it, but...it’s nice?”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “You are impossible. At least kiss me.”

Geralt leans to kiss him, and is surprised when the hand in his hair doesn’t tug, but gently cards through it. He’s of a height with the bard and is reminded that Jaskier isn’t actually that slight.

Jaskier hums against his mouth, pulling them down so they’re sitting on the bed. Geralt deepens the kiss and Jaskier moans softly, continuing to thread his fingers through his hair. Part of him wants to keep them there, wants to purr at the feeling, but he redirects them instead to his shirt as it starts to feel too much.

Luckily, Jaskier is happy to busy himself with running his hands over Geralt’s chest and arms. He sighs and moves his mouth to trail over the sharp collarbones. “Would you believe me incredibly shallow if I told you your arms make me weep?”

“No,” Geralt answers, “I’d say you were being a tease.”

Jaskier huffs. “Really, Geralt, a little foreplay is not teasing. Honestly, it’s like all of your trysts have lasted twenty minutes. Still, if you insist on being so to the point…”

He trails kisses down Geralt’s stomach, until he reaches the laces of his breeches. Geralt takes a deep breath, bracing himself for what came next. Geralt’s cock was sensitive, but he hoped that Jaskier would get on with it quickly and not prod at it too much. 

He can’t hide the hiss though, as one of Jaskier’s impeccably kept nails taps his cock. 

“Sorry, my dear,” Jaskier says, pressing a kiss to the tip.

That was new. “It’s fine.”

Jaskier looks up. “I assure you, my mouth is more than fine- oh Gods, I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“You can’t hurt me,” Geralt says, unsure what gave it away.

“Still. I do like my lovers to not look like they’re bracing for punishment. Unless that’s something you’re into.”

Geralt scoffs, already regretting this conversation. “I’m not. I just assumed you were curious.”

“About?”

“How much I could take.”

“Hmm,” he muses before running his tongue over the underside of his cock.

Geralt tenses. “Just don’t bite. That’s all I ask.”

Jaskier pulls back again. “Why the hell would I- has someone bitten your cock before? What kind of sex have you been having?”

He means it as a joke, but Geralt can’t stop the flinch. Jaskier actually moves away now, and this is it, he’s ruined the fantasy. This is when Jaskier sees that he’s weak, not even able to handle a little bit of teeth-

“Geralt. I think our expectations of how this night would go are a bit...mismatched.”

Geralt sighs. He was probably better off settling for his hand. “I know you expected me to be rougher.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth. I don’t like hurting my partners. And, before you tell me you can take it, that’s not what I said. So, please, tell me what you think was going to happen tonight.”

Geralt considers pretending to be tired. If he really wanted to get away, it’s not as though Jaskier could stop him. Still, a traitor part of him wants to hear what Jaskier expected. “Most people want to see if my pain tolerance is the same everywhere. It isn’t every day you have a witcher to test the rumors on.”

Jaskier purses his lips and Geralt wishes he could take back his words, stop ruining the moment by being so demanding. Instead of walking away, though, Jaskier sits on the bed. 

“Geralt.If we’re going to do this, I need to know that you want it. And what you want, specifically. I will not bed an unwilling partner, or risk hurting you-”

“I told you, you can’t-”

“Clearly I can, because you were asking me not to bite you!”

Geralt looks at his hands, rather than Jaskier’s face. “I just don’t want to disappoint you,” he says finally.

“Oh darling…” he hears before Jaskier tilts his face towards him. “You could never.”

He kisses Geralt and he feels the tension bleed away. This was nice. Jaskier’s mouth was warm and firm and grounding.

Once Jaskier sees Geralt suitably relaxed, he says, “Now. Let’s start over. I’m going to tell you what I would like to do, and you tell me yes or no. And I will know if you’re lying.”

He should tell the bard to fuck off, that he’s not some virgin to be ordered around, but if he’s being honest, it feels nice. To know what to expect, to not have to be on guard. “Fine.”

Jaskier smiles, back to the confident one Geralt expects. “Now. I would very much like to have that lovely cock in my mouth. No teeth. Then, if you’re amenable, I would adore having you laid out for me to take apart with my fingers. Once you’ve taken four of them and you’re nice and ready, I would like to take you. I won’t do the last part if you’re too overwhelmed though. Does that sound like something you would like?”

Geralt’s mouth is dry, but he knows Jaskier will only deliver on his promise if he answers verbally. And he wants very badly for him to deliver on his promise. “Yes.”

Jaskier softens. “That’s wonderful, darling. Tell me if something’s too much. That I do insist upon.”

Geralt nods and Jaskier resumes his previous position,and, this time, Geralt lets himself enjoy it. Jaskier is good at this, not moving too fast or too hard, and it feels good to let go, like he’s light. The barest tug on Jaskier’s hair has him pulling away. 

Geralt’s worried for a moment that he asked for too much and ruined Jaskier’s fun, but the other man just winks. “Ready for the main event, darling?”

“Yes,” Geralt says, remembering their earlier conversation. 

Jaskier tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. “Aren’t you sweet? And just for me.”

“Kiss me,” Geralt says, and Jaskier is quick to oblige.

He’s also quick to make good on his earlier promises. Geralt’s sure he’s never been this open, used to quick preps and an ache that lingers. But Jaskier won’t move, won’t add anything, until Geralt says yes, asks for more. By the time Jaskier slides into him, he feels taken apart, like his body is made of clay for Jaskier to lovingly mold.

When he comes, Jaskier fucks him through the aftershocks, and after he lays, spent, on Geralt’s chest. He moves to pull out, but Geralt catches his wrist.

Jaskier raises an eyebrow at the realization of what he’s asking. “Aren’t you perfect?” he says, nuzzling at Geralt’s shoulder.

Geralt is too tired, too sated, to be embarrassed. Jaskier indulges him a few moments before finally pulling out. Geralt makes a noise at the loss, but Jaskier pets his hair. “Is it too much for you? To be touched after?”

Geralt shakes his head. “You feel nice like this.”

They lay like that, Jaskier a solid weight over him. He sleeps better than he has in weeks.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me @demisexualgeralt on Tumblr!


End file.
